Generational players are heard of before they are seen. The whispers of, ‘You know about this kid?’ come in many forms. Sometimes, it’s word-of-mouth. Or a highlight tape dropped into a group chat. But for Landen Williams-Callis, it was a nickname.  

Brian Randle first heard about this absurd, hilarious, borderline-inappropriate nickname six years ago. He’d called a college buddy for career advice. Should he leave Katy Mayde Creek, which he calls one of the best-run school districts in America, to start Richmond Randle’s football program and take on all the pressure of coaching at a school named after his father? His friend didn’t sell Randle on family legacy. He sold him on the opportunity, the privilege, to one day coach a middle school running back that everyone called “Black Jesus.”

“Who the hell is ‘Black Jesus’?” Randle said. “Are we talking about a freakin’ sixth grader?” 

The nickname was coined at AT&T Stadium, the host of so many of Landen’s signature football moments to this point. Except it wasn’t when he earned Class 5A DII State Championship Game Offensive MVP honors as a sophomore, leading 21-point underdog Richmond Randle to its first state championship in program history over South Oak Cliff. Nor when he broke a UIL State Championship record with a 103-yard kickoff return touchdown as a junior. This moniker was bestowed upon an 11-year-old Landen Williams-Callis after his Pearland Hurricanes upset Dallas-based Pac Prime 11U in the Texas Sports League Super Bowl. His heroics that day live on in YouTube highlights – and the announcer’s legendary call that, ‘They can’t even touch the hem of his garments!’  

The family had no hand in creating “Black Jesus”. In fact, they don’t even like it. By now, ahead of his senior year of high school, Landen has rushed for 7,551 yards and 125 touchdowns. But that nickname still outruns him. It’s his introduction to the world before they can meet the humble young man his family raised him to be. It doesn’t matter how many times Landen’s grandmother chastises people who post his nickname on Facebook for being sacrilegious. During that little league Super Bowl, young Landen weaved past hapless defenders and grown men with cameras, their eyes lighting up as they realized they were capturing the next big thing. When that 11-year-old boy crossed the goal line, he unknowingly crossed into the public domain. 

“I don’t know if it’s because social media is way more prevalent than it was back in the day, but I’ve never seen this much hype around kids,” said Matt Jackson, the president of the Richmond Oilers youth football program. “Even with my oldest kid, who’s about to be 26, when he was playing pee-wee, they had some great athletes coming through. But it was a local, within our own league, hype. Nothing like Landen. Landen was nationally known in pee-wee football.” 

Randle doesn’t normally listen to pee-wee football hype. Coach for long enough, and you’ll see how many average high school players were crowned the chosen one in elementary school because they grew earlier. But this was different. Not just because of the name, but because this friend who knew about it lived in Galveston, over an hour away, and on the other side of Houston.  

“I had to go meet ‘Black Jesus,’” Randle said. 

So Randle went to Navarro Middle School’s sixth-grade P.E. class. He didn’t know what Landen looked like. But he picked him out immediately amongst the sea of kids that filed out of the locker room.  

“He comes around the corner, and all you see are calves,” Randle said. “He’s got these giant calf muscles.” 

Landen, now 5-foot-8 and 190 pounds, didn’t tower over anybody even back then. Sure, he’s still physically blessed. Randle says they have to limit him in the weight room because he gains five pounds of muscle just by sitting next to the dumbbells. But if you’d seen a picture of him that day, you wouldn’t have guessed this kid would grow up to be the first solo high school athlete featured on Dave Campbell’s magazine cover since Cedric Benson in 2000. Maybe Randle didn’t either. But shaking Landen’s hand and seeing his smile was the first of many times he’s had to remind himself that Landen isn’t a grown man. He had this presence, this aura. And almost like when the temperature drops and the wind picks up, Randle knew that day a storm was coming to Texas high school football. 

“Landen’s been on this planet before,” Randle said. “When you look at the LeBron Jameses of the world, guys like that who just kind of have it figured out from an early age, he’s kind of like one of those guys.” 

Landen hasn’t been here before, but he has family members who have been everywhere he’s trying to go. His cousin is Jacquizz Rodgers, a three-time All-Pac-10 running back at Oregon State and an eight-year NFL veteran. His uncle, Michael Lewis, was a second-round NFL Draft pick. Every offseason, Rodgers would return to Rosenberg and train Landen, just like Uncle Mike trained him.  

“We’re trying to keep this thing going where we have somebody in every generation who goes to the NFL,” Rodgers said. “We pride ourselves on trying to outwork everybody.”  

Landen has a family village supporting him. But they’ve all had to walk the tightrope of preparing him for his NFL dreams without making him a professional in high school. That’s why Landen’s uncle, Rodney Williams, declined to talk about his experience as an NFL agent for longtime Green Bay Packers cornerback Tramon Williams and his nephew Jacquizz. They know that part of the reason Landen runs so hard on Friday night is that he’s not just carrying the ball; he’s carrying on his family’s legacy. No one wants to add weight to that burden. 

“I don’t want to put any pressure on him and turn it into a pro situation,” Williams said. “We don’t even talk about pro stuff. We just talk about enjoying the moment right now.” 

Part of helping Landen enjoy the moment is protecting his peace when everyone wants a piece of him. At school, he takes the longest routes to class through every back hallway because it’ll still be faster than walking the main corridor and getting stopped for pictures. He has 70 scholarship offers, the most of any player in Texas. That’s 70 coaching staffs and 70 rabid fan bases who want his services, not to mention the countless agents, girls, and media members who want to attach themselves to him like he’s a ski lift that can take them higher up the mountain. 

“From phone calls to emails to text messages from random numbers, even to my number, it’s hard to describe for the last two to three years how much he’s been pulled in different directions,” said Landen’s father, Cornelius Callis. 

Landen’s high school fame has reached Cedric Benson at Midland Lee and Allen quarterback Kyler Murray-like proportions. But Benson and Murray played at established powers who had reached state championships before them. Richmond Randle went 4-6 in its one year of varsity football without Landen. His personal brand is bigger than the school he plays for. And in a world where social media and real life blend together, he’s accessible. You can send him a direct message. You can comment on anything he posts online. You can feel like you know him, and be comfortable trash-talking him, too.  

At first, that trash talk came from his own teammates. Landen became a varsity starter before the first game of his freshman year, beating out four other running backs who Randle still believes could’ve started at other area programs. Plenty of seniors wanted to wear No. 1 that season. But starters got the first pick, and Landen took it.  

After the season opener, Landen put his pads on a seat on the bus to claim it, then returned to the locker room to grab his phone. When he got back, his pads and jersey were thrown on the ground, and a senior took his seat. It was the only way this kid believed he could get back at Landen for taking his number, his starting spot, and every plan he had for his senior year. 

Landen is by nature a happy kid. He doesn’t talk much, but he’s constantly smiling. It’s almost a childlike joy, as if he’s thinking about a joke he’s not telling you. But there is a darkness that extinguishes that light when he’s challenged. It’s not noticeable to most, but those who know him know the glare. Randle saw his stare from the front of the bus and had Landen ride back to school in his truck. 

Landen had already been famous for quite some time. But this was the first moment he learned about the dark side of fame and the jealousy it creates. On that quiet ride back, Randle told Landen they wouldn’t be able to shield him from the ugliness of this world anymore. All they could control was his response to it. 

“Don’t let anybody take your good vibes,” Landen said. “You always have to have good vibes, no matter what somebody does to you. No matter how many bad things somebody does to you, still keep it cool and God will keep blessing you.” 

Since Landen stepped out of that pickup truck, Richmond Randle has won 42 of its next 45 games. 

“By Week 3, those same kids who were bothering him were now carrying his stuff,” Randle said. “You have to respect his game. That was a neat thing to watch, how he won over the locker room.” 

But in the process of winning over his team, he’s become Public Enemy No. 1 for opponents like Iowa Colony. These district rivals, which both began varsity football in 2022, are the fastest-rising programs in Houston. Iowa Colony is 24-0 against teams not named Richmond Randle, and 0-4 against them the past two seasons.  

Last October, Iowa Colony built a 21-0 lead after Landen fumbled on his first two possessions. He paced the sidelines, ripping his gloves off and doing breathing exercises, as his sanctuary turned into a nightmare. Landen was vulnerable, and the defense sensed it. After Landen’s third carry, an Iowa Colony player shoved his face mask into the turf. It was payback for all the pain he’d caused. The 15-yard unsportsmanlike conduct penalty seemed worth it, just like throwing Landen’s pads down seemed worth it to that senior. But that was just because they didn’t understand what Landen’s stare meant.  

If this had happened to Landen in little league, he would’ve pouted. Once, in a 10U semifinal, Landen’s team trailed 6-0 in the third quarter. Landen ran to Uncle Rodney on the sidelines, complaining about how unfair the game was. The other team was playing keep-away, refusing to snap the ball until there were five seconds on the play clock.   

“Do you play defense?” Rodney asked. 

“Yes sir,” Landen said. 

“Is the ball out there?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Well, then go get it on defense.” 

As the other team drove towards another score, Landen flew from his safety spot, stripped the ball, and took it back for a touchdown. He didn’t know it then, but Uncle Rodney had been preparing him for a game like this. How would Landen respond to the injustice of getting shoved by an Iowa Colony defender after the play? By rushing for 342 yards and six touchdowns in a 49-42 Richmond Randle victory.  

“There’s a lot of great players coming out,” Uncle Rodney said. “But the big difference is, can they handle adversity? What happens when it gets tough for you? Are you going to fight, or are you going to fold?” 

But now, Landen faces his biggest test yet. He’s already in rarified air for gracing this cover as a solo high school athlete. But it’s unprecedented that he’s doing so after losing his most recent game, the Class 5A DII State Championship against South Oak Cliff. 

The Golden Bears, appearing in their fifth straight state championship, were already a dynasty. Except now they were pissed off. Not only had Richmond Randle upset them in 2024, but they’d had people questioning them for an entire playoff run if they were ready to meet Landen Williams-Callis again. 

“These are Dallas people saying, ‘Y’all are probably going to have to see ‘Black Jesus’ now. You need to understand that,’” South Oak Cliff defensive coordinator Kyle Ward said immediately following the win. “I didn’t even know his real name.” 

In Landen’s realm of fame, the line between man and myth blurs, and the target on your back grows larger.  

Landen cried after the 35-19 loss. His tears were the last part of himself he could leave on the field. For one of the few times in his life, his best effort had come up short. He’d led Richmond Randle back to state despite a deep thigh contusion from a second-round playoff game that limited his breakaway speed. He’d managed 121 yards – and a record-setting kickoff return – against a team with 26 college football players.  

Ninety-nine out of 100 high school juniors would’ve been emotional. Except Landen is one-of-one. And just as his achievements are blasted on the internet, so was his lowest moment. A couple of days after the title game, Landen called Randle in a fury. His crying face was plastered on every social media app. And the name he’d never asked for was being used against him. 

“Coach, I’m pissed,” Landen told him. “I’m mad. I’m hurt.” 

Sports fans love the rise. But the twisted part inside all humans also loves the fall. And in the explosion of high school sports coverage, which Dave Campbell’s has as large a hand in as anyone, those tides of public opinion turn on teenagers. That’s not to make Landen’s story into some Greek tragedy. It’s just a reality. 

“Us adults, we talk mess, and we think it’s all in fun,” Cornelius said. “But sometimes adults go too far, and they forget he’s a teenager. He took that to heart, seeing himself meme’d out there as Crying Jordan.” 

The Landen you see on this cover has just had his pads thrown down on the bus. His facemask has been shoved in the turf. He’s been stewing, staring, glaring for eight months. You’ll witness his response in Week 1, when Richmond Randle rematches South Oak Cliff.  

Some thought Landen would never get that opportunity. In recent years, high school athletes of his caliber have skipped their senior year to enroll early in college and cash in on NIL opportunities. Why wouldn’t Landen do the same? What’s left for the most-offered man to prove? In Landen’s mind, after the loss, everything. If he’d left, the lasting image would’ve been the tears. He’s got a different ending to this Texas high school folk tale in mind. 

“I want them to remember me as the best player to ever come out of high school, regardless of position,” Landen said.